I roll my eyes. “Of course it did. They called 911 and said he fell into the sewing table. We never got invited over again, which my parents blamedmefor.”
“Fucking shit stains. How did you get away?”
I slowly exhale through my nose while exploring his chest with my fingertips.
“I interviewed a lot of abuse victims. Many go down a path of self-destruction. Failing school, doing drugs, unable to keep a steady job. Me? I threw myself into textbooks, got a scholarship, left the second I could. I had my stuff packed for months.”
Elias tucks my head under his chin and hums.
“Want to bring that stuff over here in the morning?”
I chuff and wiggle, making myself comfortable against him.
“You realize this is insanity, right?” I question. “We hardly know each other.”
Is this really my life now? Running off with the circus?
“I know enough,” is all he says on the matter. “Thank you for sharing your story with me.”
I kiss the hollow of his neck in reply, taking in his citrusy scent. It’s like a drug personally designed to calm my senses, and my eyes quickly grow heavy-lidded.
“Sleep now, Little Sapphire,” Elias whispers. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”
26
ELIAS
I’m starting to see a pattern here. Looks like my girl isn’t an early riser.
Jules is on her side, hugging my pillow against her, not stirring even as I move around the small room to get dressed.
According to the delivery app, her clothes arrived. Sure enough, I open the trailer door to see the packages there. I bring them inside and open them, then take clean underwear out of the sealed bags. Leaving my folded selections at the foot of the bed, I exit the trailer and head to our improvised food court.
Silas is there already, squinting at the sunrise.
“You’ll ruin your eyesight,” I mutter as I sit down at the same rickety table.
“Alright, Dad,” he shoots back. “You’re like a minute older than me. Stop being so curmudgeonly.”
Grinning, I wave at Deke, our cook, to bring me some breakfast.
“Someone has to take care of you guys,” I tell my brother. “Keep you out of the hospital and jail.”
Silas scoffs. He leans against the backrest, which creaks under his weight, and crosses his arms.
“I doubt you were thinking about keeping us out of jail when you let your little reporter live the other night,” he drawls.
Deke brings my food over with a murmured word of greeting, so I don’t say anything until he’s behind his counter again.
“She’s proven herself, hasn’t she?” I ask Silas. “Are you going to stop questioning my decisions anytime soon?”
“Sure, she’s proven herself. But I don’t intend to stop giving you a hard time anytime soon, no.”
I cut into my breakfast sausage with a grin. “Fair enough. Could you do me a favor, though?”
Silas leans forward, resting his hands on the table. “Name it.”
“Could you look into Jules’s past for me?”
